


Being Human

by literaryoblivion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, First Kiss, Fluff, Human Derek Hale, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Marking, Mild Language, Spells & Enchantments, Temporarily Human Derek, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about witches and spells and curses that Derek feels should be emphasized is that the victim does not always know about it. The victim here, specifically, being him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Human

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of [this fanart](http://banryeo.tumblr.com/post/88196894342) by Banryeo. Also this is totes unbetaed so I'm sorry for mistakes.

The thing about witches and spells and curses that Derek feels should be emphasized is that the victim does not always know about it. The victim here, specifically, being him.

He hadn’t even noticed it at first because it was incredibly subtle. He bumped his hip against the edge of the kitchen counter before bed and thought nothing of it until he woke up the next morning to shower and noticed he had a bruise. He’d never had one before, never had this experience where he had gotten a bruise and couldn’t think of where it came from or why it was there, why it was _still_ there. It only unnerved him enough for him to notice but once he had his clothes on and the bruise was covered, he forgot about it.

He sat down at his table for breakfast, the book he had been reading last night still there. He glanced over at the title as he ate and noticed it seemed a little blurry. He rubbed his eyes, thinking maybe he wasn’t fully awake yet, but no, it was still blurry. He reached over to pick up the book and open it, and the words on the page were even worse, almost unreadable, than the title had been. The closer he brought it to his face, the better he was able to see it, which was very odd. He’d never had this problem before.

The moment he knew something was really wrong, however, was right at that moment when Stiles walked into the loft and Derek _was caught off guard_.

He hadn’t even heard the squeaky breaks and rumbles of the Jeep, hadn’t even heard Stiles’s footsteps on the staircase, nor the sliding of the heavy metal door as he let himself in.

Something was very wrong.

“Dude, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? You knew I was coming. I texted you…. You got it, right?” Stiles approached Derek slowly like he was a frightened lamb. It’s a surprisingly accurate comparison since he knows he is very far from wolf at the moment.

Derek dug his phone from his pocket and saw he had a text from Stiles, one he hadn’t seen or heard.

“I… uh… just got it.”

Stiles furrows his brow. “Uh… okay. Well I need to do more research and need to borrow those books on spells? Deaton says he gave them to you.”

“Right,” Derek says, scooting back in his chair to get up. He doesn’t know what’s going on, can’t figure out why he can’t hear the fast beat of Stiles’s heart. But when Stiles mentions the spell books, he remembers that there’s a witch in town, and this must be her doing. He leaves Stiles milling in his living room as he goes to retrieve the books.

He comes back to find Stiles looking very embarrassed and sheepish, his hands behind his back.

“What did you do.” Derek asks, although it doesn’t come out like a question but more like a reprimand.

“Uh… nothing?”

Derek narrows his eyes as if he can tell Stiles is lying, but the truth is he really can’t. Stiles doesn’t need to know that though.

“Okay… so I may have _accidentally_ broken one of your mugs.”

Derek lets out a sigh. “It’s fine. You get to replace it.”

“That I can do.” Derek sets the books down on the table. “Wait, that’s it? No growly rants, flash of eyes?”

“You’re not worth it.”

“Um ouch. Thanks a lot, dude.”

Derek grins. He sets his hand down on the stack of books. “Look, I need these, so you can’t take them with you. But I’ll allow you to read them in my presence.”

Stiles’s eyebrows shoot up his face. “Wow, okay. That’s _so_ kind of you.” He rolls his eyes and smacks Derek’s hand off the stack so he can take the first one. “It’s a good thing I didn’t have other plans.” He goes to the couch, book in hand, and plops down. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be looking for. As far as we know this witch is just minding her own business and passing through on her way to like a convention or something.”

Derek takes the next book off the stack and sits in the armchair next to the couch. “She’s been here too long to be passing through. She’s planning something.” Then, trying to make it sound like an afterthought he adds, “Look for things that have to do with taking powers or making a supernatural creature… not supernatural.” Yeah, that might not have been as vague as he was going for.

Stiles side eyes him. “That is like weirdly specific. But… uh… fine.” Stiles shrugs and opens the book to start reading. Derek does the same, looking for something that could help him figure out why he suddenly has bruises and can’t hear things, and he’s also starting to feel weak. Of course, the poor eye sight thing isn’t helping, and he keeps moving the book further from and closer to his face like he’s playing the trombone.

He’s apparently making a lot of noise while he’s doing it because Stiles just stares at him. “What?” Derek’s voice comes out frustrated and annoyed.

“What are you doing? I don’t think flapping the book is going to help in reading it.”

Derek ignores him and settles the book to rest on his chest, which he has learned is the perfect distance for him to read it and not look like he’s staring into the sun. Stiles goes back to his own book, and they sit in relative silence for a while reading.

Once Derek’s finished with his book, no helpful information whatsoever, he gets up to get another and decides to grab a blanket from his bedroom because there’s a draft right where he’s been sitting and he’s starting to get chilly.

It’s when he’s plopped back down, blanket wrapped around him, book in his lap, getting ready to crack it open, that he realizes Stiles has been watching him the entire time instead of reading.

“What is that?” Stiles asks, pointing to Derek.

“What is what?”

“That.” He points again with his finger as well as with his head.

“Uh, it’s called a blanket, Stiles,” he says very slowly like Stiles is a small child.

“Yeah I got that, dumbass. Why the hell are you using it?”

“Because I’m cold. Is that alright with you?”

Stiles gapes. “You’re _cold_? No, it’s not alright! Derek, what the hell is going on? You don’t hear me coming in the loft _or_ hear me break a mug, you’re squinting at your book and waving it around like my dad does with his case files if he forgets his glasses, and now you’re effing wrapped in a blanket like a burrito. Not to mention that you told me to look up things that had to do with _supernatural creatures losing their powers_. What. Is. Going. On.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. If I find out you can’t heal too, we’re calling Deaton.” Derek’s eyes snap up and widen. “Ahh, Derek, are you kidding me?!” Stiles yells.

“I… may have found a bruise on my person this morning.” His voice is small and quiet but Stiles hears it, might even have better hearing now than Derek does at the moment.

“You found a… ugh, Derek! Why didn’t you tell us sooner!?”

“I just barely figured it out when you came over! I don’t… I can’t…” Suddenly, Derek looks scared, something Stiles doesn’t see on Derek very often. Stiles’s anger flushes away and he rushes over to Derek and squats near his chair, his hand resting on his knee, squeezing a little to comfort him.

“Hey, big guy, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. So you’re kind of human for a little bit, it’s alright.” Stiles gives him a smile. “We’ll get you back to your growly werewolf self in no time. Promise.”

Derek nods. “We should go to Deaton.”

~

Deaton, as always, is not much help. Tells them they have his books on the subject so they will have to look through them for answers. They still don’t know where the witch is hiding out or how she cast the spell on Derek to turn him human, but it doesn’t seem like Scott or any of the other betas are affected. Before they leave the vet, Deaton offers one more piece of advice. He recommends Derek get reading glasses.

Which means that now, Stiles and Derek are at the nearest drugstore perusing their selection of reading glasses.

“These all look like they are for 70 year old ladies,” Derek grumbles, spinning the rack around and around, shaking his head at all of them.

“There is nothing wrong with cool hip grandmas and their eyewear. No. Come on, [these](http://www.stantonoptical.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/IMAGE_Lighted-Reading-Glasses_STEJER-LLC_wide.jpg) look ok. And look! They even have little lights on them so you can read in the dark. Ohhhh or [these](http://www.ioffer.com/img3/item/208/428/196/2-new-magnetic-reading-glasses-eyeglasses-clic-style-d758a.jpg)!” Stiles holds up a pair of glasses that have a strap on them and come apart in the front.

Derek turns to walk away, but Stiles pulls him back to him by his arm, giggling. “I’m kidding!” he says, holding Derek by the forearm to keep him from wandering off. He turns the rack of glasses again and then pulls off a simple pair of black frames.

“Here, try these,” Stiles says, not letting Derek take them but putting them on his face for him. Derek ignores how much he likes the feel of Stiles fingers behind his ears and on his face as he settles the glasses on his nose. “I like ‘em. What do you think?”

Derek turns to the mirror next to the rack, and he does like the look of them, but the point is can they help him read. He looks over at the signs nearby and they all seem clearer than they had been before.

“These’ll do.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and then takes him over to the first-aid section and grabs a box of band aids. When Derek gives him a questioning look, Stiles shrugs. “You might get a major paper cut when you’re reading, and I know you’ll be a whiny bitch about it since it won’t heal now. So… band aids.” He shakes the box at him.

He receives a bitchface from Derek, but Stiles ignores him and pushes past him to the snack aisle to get some research snacks. They pile everything up at the counter to ring up (Stiles might have gotten carried away with the snacks) and watch as the cashier scans and bags the items. Stiles looks back at Derek and sees the glasses still on his face. He chokes back a laugh at the sight because the glasses still have the tag on them, and it’s hanging down in front of Derek’s nose.

“Forgot these,” Stiles says, pulling the glasses off of Derek and handing them to the cashier.

After everything is paid for, Derek goes to pick up all of the bags plus the case of soda Stiles decided he needed, and he almost drops them all.

“Uh, here, Derek, let me help.”

“No. I’ve got it,” Derek says rather stubbornly, maneuvering the bags so they’re on his arms so he can pick up the soda case. Everything feels a lot heavier than it should, and Derek _hates_ that he can’t carry freakin’ groceries.

Stiles glances at the cashier, who has moved on to the person behind them and doesn’t see or care. He lets Derek struggle for a little bit before trying to grab the case out of his hand and a couple of the bags as well.

“Let me help you, Derek,” he whispers, and Derek sighs, letting the bags and case go so Stiles can carry them. He follows Stiles out to the car, his shoulders hunched, his head down. He can tell Stiles wants to say something when he climbs into the Jeep and slams the door shut, but the car ride back to the loft is blessedly silent.

~

By the time they’ve carried everything (both of them sharing the load this time) up to the loft, Derek’s mood (and really pity party for himself) has cleared. He and Stiles sit on opposite ends of the couch, a few snacks between them, and a book each to read. He still has a blanket around him, but this time with his new glasses, he doesn’t have to squint or hold the book at a certain distance to read it, which is nice.

He can see Stiles in his periphery, sitting sideways so his back is against the arm rest, his knees up with the book balanced between them. He tries not to keep watching Stiles out of the corner of his eye as he pages through the book, tries not to strain his ears (something he wouldn’t have to do normally) to hear what Stiles is muttering to himself under his breath as he reads, tries to not stare at Stiles’s lips and the way he bites his bottom one in concentration. He has to remind himself to read instead of admiring the way the light from the window streams in and hits Stiles and makes his eyelashes stand out, makes his hair a golden brown in the sunlight.

Stiles catches him staring though, even when he tries to quickly go back to his book, ignoring the red blush on his cheeks. He can feel Stiles move all the snacks between them to the coffee table and scoot closer to him on the couch. He does his best to continue reading, even though he’s pretty sure he’s read the same sentence three times now.

“So… how does it feel to be an actual fragile human being?” Stiles asks.

Derek narrows his eyes, suddenly angry at how Stiles has phrased the question. “Mostly just like you… pathetic, weak, vulnerable—“

“Shut up, asshole.” Stiles punches him in the arm, and for the first time ever it actually hurts, hurts enough for him to feel it and the ache that’s still there afterwards. Stiles didn’t punch hard enough to bruise, and a part of him kind of wishes he had. It would have actually stayed and Stiles would have left a lasting visible mark on him.

“It feels weird. I don’t like it. I feel… useless.”

“Welcome to the club.”

“You’re not useless, Stiles.”

“Oh? Well when you tell me to stay in the car or stay behind it sure makes me feel that way.” Stiles looks down, refusing to meet his eyes until Derek lifts his chin so he has to.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles blinks. “Wow. I think I like this human Derek.”

Derek rolls his eyes and pushes at Stiles’s shoulder to move him away because he has been leaning further and further into Derek’s space. It’s starting to get warm under the blanket.

“I liked werewolf Derek too, but human you is definitely growing on me. Especially in these glasses… they’re hot.” Stiles pushes the glasses up a little further on his nose and then trails the tip of his fingertip down the ridge of Derek’s nose and gives the tip of it a little tap. He can see Stiles stare a little too long at his lips, like he’s contemplating running his finger over them too, but he doesn’t.

“Maybe I’ll keep them around then.”

“You should. You look kind of cute and comfy all snuggled in a blanket reading.” He’s pressed up against Derek now like he wants to snuggle under the blanket right next to Derek, and Derek wouldn’t mind if he did.

“I do, huh?” Stiles bobs his head, his lips curled up in the corners. He’s leaning so far that he’s practically in Derek’s lap, so Derek decides to help him the rest of the way. He opens up the blanket a little to make room, and pulls Stiles over so he’s sitting in Derek’s lap.

“I see the human-ness hasn’t gotten rid of the manhandling.”

“Shut up.”

“What? I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I was just making an observation.” Stiles relaxes into Derek’s arms, which he has wrapped around his back. He reaches up to card his fingers through Derek’s hair, bumping his glasses as he does so. “Man, who knew I had such a glasses kink,” he says as he rights them.

“Shouldn’t we be reading?” Derek asks even though he doesn’t really want to at the moment, not with Stiles warm in his arms.

Stiles shrugs, rests a hand at the back of Derek’s neck, the other on Derek’s chest. “Scott texted and said they found her. She’s been practicing and didn’t realize it had affected anyone. She said it should wear off in a week.”

Derek narrows his eyes. “How long have you known this?”

“Well… Scott texted me that he found her when we got back here, then told me about the spell about five minutes ago.”

“Oh.” He kind of deflates with the news, anger subsided at the thought that Stiles might have been playing him and knew longer than he was letting on.

“You get to be a squishy human for a week, what are you going to do?” He says it like a game show host and Derek has won a million dollars and is waiting for Derek to say he’s going to Disney World.

“First on this list is this,” he says, pulling Stiles in by the neck to kiss him. He licks at the seam between Stiles’s lips until he opens them with a gasp, moaning a little when Derek sucks and nips at his bottom lip.

They don’t let it get to heated though, and Stiles grins against his mouth before he pulls back enough to say, “Well, I liked that one. What’s next?”

“Next,” Derek says nosing along Stiles’s jaw and down his neck, “I’m going to mark you.” He pauses to suck a spot on Stiles’s throat, “…so that everyone knows you’re mine. And then… you’re going to do the same to me, even if it’ll only last a week.”

Stiles nods frantically. “I can do that. Definitely. Come here,” he says breathlessly before kissing his way down Derek’s neck, leaving tiny little red marks in his wake. It feels good, and he knows that he’ll like seeing them and will remember them after they fade.

They make out a little more on the couch, sucking and biting marks and bruises into each other’s skin until they both decide to move somewhere more comfortable and then undress so they have access to more skin.

~

In the morning, when Derek wakes up, Stiles is pressed up against his side, breath hot against his neck. He kisses the top of his head before climbing out of bed and shuffling to the bathroom. This time when he sees the bruises that cover his body, he knows exactly where they came from and why they are still there, and he is okay with that.

~

The week goes by like any other, and he avoids any major catastrophes. He makes it out without any broken bones or flesh wounds. He gets a few scraps that don’t heal immediately, but other than that he’s fine. Stiles makes fresh marks on him every day, some in the same spot so they are purple and ache, but Derek likes them.

The day that Stiles tries to give him another and it immediately fades, Derek’s face falls with sadness. The spell has worn off, and just like it began, he slowly gets his powers back. Stiles tries to cheer him up, saying that he’s still his even if there’s no physical evidence. Derek glumly nods his agreement, and it’s not until Stiles reminds him that he can now use his werewolf-y strength to fuck him up against the wall that his sadness about being human for a week has completely left and he’s happy he’s back to normal again.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi and fangirl with me on [my tumblr](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com) or [my twitter](http://twitter.com/lit_oblivion).
> 
> ETA: The lovely [Megan](http://mianewarcher.tumblr.com) drew art for this fic! [Click here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Bp0MT0-IMAAe8g_.jpg:large).


End file.
